Chapter 7 - The Hostage in Plain Sight
The collision threw Julian to his knees on the damp grass, the shockwave of metal and debris blowing his glasses into the bushes. Lily slipped from his grasp, the bundle of wool rolling a few feet away onto the soaked turf.
Elena kicked the crushed driver-side door open, tumbling out into the mud with a steel tire iron she had snatched from the truck’s passenger footwell. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony, but her eyes locked onto the small pink-slippered feet peeking out from the blanket.
""Lily!"" Elena cried, half-running, half-crawling across the torn earth.
Before she could reach her daughter, the remaining security guard closed the distance, leveling his sidearm directly at Elena’s forehead. His finger tightened on the trigger.
""Back off!"" a voice thundered from the driveway behind them.
Three county sheriff squad cars roared onto the lawn, their sirens screaming as they formed an aggressive semi-circle around the destroyed helipad. Four deputies emerged behind open vehicle doors, service weapons drawn and trained on the mercenary.
""Drop the weapon! Hands where we can see them! On the ground now!""
The mercenary hesitated, calculating his odds against four law enforcement officers with clear sightlines, then slowly raised his hands and knelt in the mud, tossing his firearm aside.
Elena collapsed onto her knees beside Lily, tears finally cutting hot tracks through the dirt and blood on her face. She pulled the blanket back. Lily was pale, her skin clammy, her eyes half-open and glassy, pupils blown wide from whatever chemical Julian had pumped into her veins.
""Mommy...?"" Lily whispered, her vocal cords thick, barely forming the word. ""The pillow... it was dark...""
""I know, baby. I know. Mommy has you. Nobody is ever touching you again,"" Elena sobbed, gathering the limp child into her arms, rocking her against the cold rain that had begun to fall.
A heavy hand rested on Elena’s shoulder. She flinched, ready to strike, but looked up into the weathered, stoic face of Sheriff Thomas—a man who had known her father for thirty years.
""It’s over, Elena,"" Thomas said softly, his eyes taking in the carnage, the blood on her face, and the crushed helicopter. ""Paramedics are right behind us. Julian isn't going anywhere.""
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Elena turned her head to watch Julian being forced against the hood of a cruiser, his hands cuffed behind his back. But Julian wasn't looking at the sheriff, nor was he looking at the handcuffs. He was looking straight at Elena, his split lip curling into a serene, cold smile.
""Check your phone, Elena,"" Julian mouthed silently through the falling rain.
